Clubbed
by xenascully
Summary: TAG to Crescent City Part 2. Because screw the TV magic BS that makes it seem that easy to recover from a head injury caused and administered in a fashion that has been used to murder people in real life.


**Clubbed**

**TAG to Crescent City Part 2. Because screw the TV magic BS that makes it seem that easy to recover from a head injury caused and administered in a fashion that has been used to murder people in real life. **

*~.~*

"You okay?" Tony asked as he helped McGee up from the floor.

"Yeah I..." Tim stopped and cleared his throat, closing his eyes against the pain that radiated through his head from the action. "I think so."

"Let's get you outta here," Tony said, taking one of his partner's arms gently, leading him toward the door. But then he felt the man begin to stagger, tilting to one side. "Whoa there!" he said as he caught him.

"I...Tony, I don't..." Tim said, then his eyes rolled back into his head.

Tony found himself catching the younger man before he could collapse onto the floor. "Tim!" he shouted, realizing that McGee had begun seizing in his arms. Carefully, he lowered him down to the floor again. "Somebody get an ambulance here, now!" he shouted, then looked back down to his friend. "Tim..." he wasn't sure what to do, other than the obvious, which was to hold him on his side and wait it out...

*~.~*

Gibbs entered the hospital after his flight home from New Orleans landed back in DC. He'd tried calling Tony several times, but it always went straight to voice mail. Chances were that the phone had died since he'd not left Tim since he was brought in after his injury.

The truth was, Gibbs hadn't thought it was more than a concussion. He figured that by the time he got back, McGee would've been back at the office, munching down aspirin while Tony made golf jokes at his expense. Instead, once the case was over and he was waiting for his flight, Dukcy had called to tell him that it was more serious. Something about intracranial bleeding, an injury to the cerebellum and occipital lobe.

As Gibbs approached room 308, he saw Tony asleep in a chair by the window. Soft light played through the industrial blinds, casting an orange glow that somehow made Tony look ten years younger. McGee's eyes were closed, head wrapped in gauze, and Gibbs was confused for a moment why. Just for a moment, though. He remembered, now. Surgery. They had to relieve the pressure, put in a drain, stop the bleeding.

Gibbs walked quietly to the foot of the bed and appraised the young man. He had no idea what this meant for McGee; what it would do to him if it would be permanent, whatever it was. He had to at least take comfort in the fact that he was alive.

"He hasn't woken up," Tony's near-whispering voice sounded, and Gibbs looked over at where he still sat in the chair. "Not since the surgery."

Gibbs turned his body to face him. "And when was that?" he asked just as quietly.

"Day before yesterday," he replied.

"That how long you've been here?"

"Yeah. Well, aside from going home to shower, or getting coffee... Abby stays with him when I'm not here."

"You should go home, get some proper sleep, Tony."

Tony smiled grimly at him, remaining silent for a long moment. "It shoulda been me," he said. Gibbs twisted his head, opening his mouth to retort to that statement, but Tony stopped him. "He shouldn't have gone there alone. This is on me."

"You couldn't have known," Gibbs told him. "No one expected it. It was supposed to be a simple lead."

"We're supposed to expect the unexpected, Gibbs," Tony retorted. "We're supposed to have each others six. I blew it off for some stupid..." he shook his head at the thought, closing his eyes and berating himself in his head. "For something stupid. It should've been me."

Gibbs silently stepped forward until he was about a foot in front of the agent. "And if the roles had been reversed, McGee would be sittin' here sayin' the same thing, DiNozzo."

"I should've gone with him, is the point."

"Two agents to pick up some files?" Gibbs shrugged. "I dunno. Seems like there's no perfect answer. What happened, happened. Can't change that now," he told him. After a few silent moments, Gibbs sank down into the chair beside Tony's. "Bad things sometimes happen when you least expect them. Sometimes...there's nothin' you could've done to prevent it, and sometimes...well hell, there's always something you can think in hindsight that might've stopped the bad from happening. _Always_." There was something about the way he said that last word that had Tony looking over at him now.

"Truth is, we go through life preventing bad things all the time. We just don't always know about it, because the bad thing never had its chance to happen, because we did that one thing...that one little...flap of a butterfly wing."

"Though I might have enjoyed that Butterfly Effect reference, boss, my heart's just not in the moment here," he said with a sigh. "I guess I kinda get what you're saying. I mean, we stop bad guys all the time, so there's that."

"I'm not just talkin' about the job, Tony," he replied. "I'm talkin' about everything. Huge things that could've happened, a lot bigger than this, but were only ever changed because one tiny little action."

"You're talking...like...life is all planned out for us already," Tony said with a slightly hysterical grin. "Like everything is fate, and we can put a ripple in it if we choose to."

"Maybe it is. Maybe not. Doesn't matter."

"I'm starting to wonder if it wasn't really me that got hit in the head," Tony said with a slight laugh. "You're talkin' crazy, boss."

"Maybe it's the jetlag," Gibbs said with a smirk. "But really, think about it. Maybe if you'd gone instead of McGee, he'd have left to get lunch, walked out into the road without lookin', and gotten hit by a bus. Dead on impact."

"Jesus Christ, where did that come from?" Tony asked incredulously. "He's not a toddler, Gibbs! He looks both ways before crossing. You think he needs one of us to hold his hand? Hell, he's probably more cautious than any of us, rea-" his sentence cut off by his own realization. He looked at his boss, who was looking at him with raised brows. Tony looked away, growling in both frustration and...something akin to unwanted amusement. "I appreciate what you're doing. Really I do," Tony said. "But that...guilt issue I have isn't as easy to get rid of as I'd like. And it's really the least of my worries right now. I mean...McGee hasn't woken up in two days. I have no idea what's gonna happen."

"Duck says the swelling's down," Gibbs said. "That there's no permanent damage that they could find on the MRIs. His chances are good that he'll come out of this perfectly fine."

"But we won't know for sure until he wakes up, I know," Tony finished for him. "And I'm trying to have faith that he'll be okay. It's just..." he shook his head, a breathy laugh escaping him as he looked down at his lap. "Delilah came in here yesterday. I couldn't help but to imagine McGee ending up that way; not able to walk..."

A groan from the bed pulled their attention from the conversation. They stood and made their way to the agent. "Tim?" Tony asked, laying a hand on the younger man's arm. "You wakin' up?"

He groaned again, his head rolling slightly.

"I'll go get a doctor," Gibbs said, then turned to head out of the room.

"Time to wake up, man," Tony said, trying to coax him all the way awake. "You've been out for days. Freaking me out."

"T- Tony?" Tim asked, cracking his eyes open. "S'that you?"

"Yeah. Man, am I glad you're awake," he smiled.

"What happened?" he asked groggily.

"What's the last you remember?" Tony asked.

"Uh...got hit in the head," he replied slowly, thinking it over. "You were there when I woke up. I don't remember anything after that."

"You got hit pretty hard," Tony explained. "Ended up with some bleeding. They fixed you up, though."

"Agent McGee," a doctor said as he came into the room and pulled open the blinds to let more light in. "So good to see you awake." Gibbs stood just inside the door, out of the way. "We're gonna run a few simple tests, okay?"

"Sure," Tim replied, glancing to Tony and Gibbs before he looked back to the doctor.

The doctor asked him questions, checking his memory, looked over all his vitals, showed him a few charts to read from, and last but not least, asked him to wiggle his toes.

"Looks like everything's good to go," the doctor said with a smile. Both Gibbs and Tony let out a breath of relief. "I want you to stay here a couple more days for observation, and we'll do some further testing to make sure your motor skills are intact."

"What if they're not?" Tim asked, a slightly worried look on his face.

"Then we'll start some physical therapy and get you back into tip-top shape," the doctor replied casually. "There's no reason to think you can't walk out of here at 100%, Agent McGee."

"Thank you," he said, relieved. The doctor nodded and headed out of the room.

"That's a relief, huh?" Tony said with a smile.

"I...honestly hadn't even had time to worry about it," Tim replied. "But I guess you all have."

"Yeah. I can't wait to tell everyone you're okay," Tony told him.

"Thanks...for staying here," Tim said.

"No problem, probie," Tony said with a smirk. "Anything I can do for you now that you're awake?"

"Actually, yeah," he replied. "Bring me my laptop? If I'm gonna be here a couple more days, I might as well be entertained."

"What, I'm not entertaining?"Tony questioned.

"I'll bring you your computer, McGee," Gibbs told him with a grin. "Tony, go home and get some sleep. You can entertain Tim tomorrow."

~End

**I feel like that turned into a lot of rambling...so I had to stop. LOL**.


End file.
